


Clowns To The Left Of Me, Rebels To The Right

by Fox_Salz



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestor-Era (Homestuck), Ancestors (Homestuck), Ancestors with Pre-Scratch Names, Biting, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Dirty Talk, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Flirting, Foursome, Frottage, Latula "I'm not a size queen but damn" Pyrope, Multi, Nook Fingering (Homestuck), Psionics, Puns & Word Play, Rebellion, There's plenty of booze but it's not drunk sex, triple of you count both of Psii's bulges I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Salz/pseuds/Fox_Salz
Summary: Redglare just wanted a drink, but what she got was three members of the rebellion.
Relationships: Neophyte Redglare/The Signless | The Sufferer, The Disciple/Neophyte Redglare, The Disciple/Neophyte Redglare/The Psiioniic | The Helmsman/The Signless | The Sufferer, The Disciple/The Psiioniic | The Helmsman, The Disciple/The Psiioniic | The Helmsman/The Signless | The Sufferer, The Disciple/The Signless | The Sufferer, The Psiioniic | The Helmsman/Neophyte Redglare, The Psiioniic | The Helmsman/The Signless | The Sufferer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Ancestor Exchange 2020





	Clowns To The Left Of Me, Rebels To The Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oncewewerezombies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/gifts).



> I'm so excited to be able to upload my fic for the Ancestor Exchange. It was very hard to choose what prompt to do, because they were all delicious. 
> 
> I did not mean for this to be 10k, but here we are. I hope you have a free afternoon lmao.

The moons, particularly the green one, are high and bright in the sky, illuminating the quaint port town from the harbor to this shady little bar. Inside is darker, though you hardly notice as you see it all through the red tint of your signature glasses.

You are Neophyte Latula Pyrope, an up and coming legislacerator under His Honorable Tyranny, with all eyes—clown, pirate, and fish alike—on you as you climb the ranks, and you need a drink. Several, considering the week you’ve had.

Hence why you have found yourself here of all places. Of course, there are far closer spots you could have chosen, with all sorts of expensive options. Places with fine wines or overpriced dishes, but you’re looking for something more low-key tonight. Also you really don’t want to be around anyone from work. Granted, in this place you could easily end up drinking with someone who you’ll later be trying, but that’s just a risk you have to take in this crazy world.

Also, you are so fed up with clowns it's not even funny. Here there are few to none, and the stray clown that does happen by won’t bother you. Almost like a mother fucking miracle.

Snorting to yourself, you quickly scan tonight’s crowd. It’s more out of instinct than any worry; being prepared is just how one survives in this empire. A little luck usually helps, too, but it’s definitely that preparedness doing the brunt of the work.

Obvious vagabonds abound, but none that particularly look like any threat to you. Few even take an interest in you as you head for the bar. Maybe one or two heads pop up from a table in a dark corner, or some eyes follow you closely as you pass, but it’s more curiosity, more them watching to make sure you’re not here to make some heads roll. When you ignore them all, you can feel gazes start to wander off.

Your favorite bartender and owner of the place is on duty tonight. He greats you with a chipper smile that’s so out of place in this dingy establishment.

“Miss Pierope! Icing you’re early this evening. What’ll it be?”

“Something strong, Chipsn,” you reply, sliding into one of the swiveling stools. Not very comfortable, but you know from experience between booze and inactivity your ass will be numb in no time.

“It’s a berry gouda night for straight whiskey.”

“Now that sounds good. Don’t even bother with ice.”

He whips the simple order up quick, glass clanking down in front of you soon enough. Before the sound can even finish you're lifting the glass up and throwing your head back. It _burns_ all the way down, tongue to swallowtube to gut and all the little crevices in between. Satisfied, you slam the glass back down.

“Alright, now I'm feeling more like a functioning troll. Fix me something a little fruitier, but make damn sure the alcohol content is even higher.”

“An eggcellent choice, Miss Pierope."

As he sets about making the new drink your attention is drawn to an opening door. Not the front where you walked in, but leading to the little side room Chipsn sometimes rents out. A troll slides out, firmly shutting the door behind her. Olive, matching triangular horns, more rounded at the top, that almost get lost in her wild mane. Some sleek muscles peeking out of the long fingerless gloves that stretch up her arms and stopping right below her bare shoulders. She’s attractive.

What really gets your attention, though, as she walks up to the counter close to you, is just how _familiar_ she seems.

“Hey, Salspaw! What’s on the meownu tonight?”

Another one that does puns. You can’t help the upwards twitch of your lips; they’re charming, and you have to appreciate the effort. If only it didn’t remind you so damn much of the S)(-E B-EACH in charge.

“You are welcome to help yourself to the kitchen. It’s a bit of a slow night.”

“Great! First, how about a drink? That one mew’re making looks good."

“One second,” he replies, setting your glass in front of you.

You glance at the drink from the top of your glasses to really take it in. Multicolored, like a beautiful night on the beach. Lifting it to your nose, you take a big whiff. Booze and fruit, what could be better?

As you take a savoring sip you notice that you’re being noticed. She’s obvious about it, too. A smile on her face, but the edges of it are strained. She must be realizing what you are.

You set the glass back down with a refreshed sigh, grinning over at Chipsn.

“Top notch. I already have the urge to go moonbathing.”

“There’s a great spot near here fur that,” this mysterious troll informs you before turning back to Chipsn. “Make me one of those, purrlease!”

"Bunt of course."

He sets to it and you smile over at the olive. You aren’t trying to be intimidating, but you think maybe you’re showing a little too much fang to be friendly. You can’t help it, still stuck in work mode.

“You must be a friend of Chipsn. He doesn’t lend that room out often."

“We go way back, since wigglerhood. And mew? Are mew a regular?”

“Mm, nowadays I do tend to be, huh?” You glance at Chipsn with a chuckle. He offers you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s obviously nervous at you meeting whoever this is. Would be nice to at least have a name. “Chipsn makes the best drinks around. I’m Pyrope, by the way.”

You hold out your hand, admiring how she doesn’t hesitate before taking it. Damn, her grip is tight.

“Leijon.”

“It’s nice to see a new face around here,” you comment, “instead of all these losers. Hardly anyone interesting ever comes around.”

“Yeah, since I’ve been here this place has been so dull! I don’t know how Salspaw can stand it.”

“I’m fine with a little less eggcitement. It’s butter that way.”

“Some people just aren’t equipped for fun,” you tease, catching Leijon’s eye. She grins.

“I’m glad Salspaw seems to have someone who’s not so boring around here. A little liveliness is good.”

“See, that’s what I say, but you know how he is.”

He hums dismissively, setting down Leijon’s drink. She takes what could not be mistaken for a sip, ears perking up.

“Ooh, this is good! Defurnitely wanna moonbathe meow.”

“I recall you saying something about a good spot,” you comment, leaning forward with your chin on the back of your hand, the one she touched. “Maybe you’ll have to show me.”

“Meow, me I can understand willing to get naked in furont of a stranger befur even finishing one drink, but I don’t think mew’ve had all that much yet. Not to judge your clawacter, beclaws I love it."

You throw your head back with a genuine laugh. You’re really digging this chick.

“I can’t believe you were hiding this bodacious babe from me, Chipsn,” you tease, casting a glance over at him. Both of them catch your wording, judging by the way he busies himself with wiping down a spot on the counter and she tenses. It’s just a fraction, a barely there reaction, but your keen legislacerator eyes catch it. To her (further) credit, she recovers swiftly and well.

“He nefur told me he knew someone as fun as mew, either! Whenefur I’ve come around it’s only been the usual boring and mewdy bunch. It gets purretty stale.”

With a snort, you nod.

“Yeah, not much life out of these wet blankets unless you’re looking to stir up a little trouble. Chipsn doesn’t like it when I start a fight in his bar, though.”

“I do prefer to not have my eggstablishmint in shambles, yes.”

“He might as well just put up a sign that says ‘no fun allowed’,” you lament, actually getting her to snicker.

“Oh my god, yes.

Sighing Chipsn comments, "I see I’m albready reggretting you two meeting.”

Both of you flash him grins, and you admire how playfully dangerous hers is. You especially admire the glint of her sharp fangs. Damn, girl, you better keep it in your pants. At least until you have more information on this Leijon.

Your eyes are drawn back to the door as it opens again. A psionic. Rare to spot one in the wild, untethered to someone that needs a battery. As he steps out he glances over to the bar, stopping when he sees you. At least that’s what you imagine; it’s so hard to tell exactly what psionics are looking at. Either way he stops dead in his tracks, obvious panic surging through him as he turns right around and shoves both himself and the troll following closely behind him back into the room.

You don’t necessarily get a good look at the other troll, nothing that you could get a sketchvenger to draw up, but you don’t need to. A buff olive blood, free psionic, and stubby horned mutant. You know exactly who these three are.

Well, fuck.

You can really understand Leijon’s initial distrust of you now. You also can’t blame her next reaction.

“Oh, right! I was supposed to be figuring out dinner. Excuse me, Purrope.”

She doesn’t wait for a response before slinking away and hurrying back into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Ah, Miss Pyrope, what else can I get you?” Chipsn asks. “A snack, maybe? I could whip up some lovely, uh, risotto? Grubloaf and jam? Some salted legume bites?

While he was listing things off you finished your drink. Now you set it back down with a satisfied sigh. Then you push yourself up and away from the counter, holding a hand up to wave him off as he keeps trying to distract you.

Your steps to the door are slow but steady. Inside you’re reeling. Behind this door are the infamous rebels that have been giving the empress so much trouble. Rabble rousers, low blood scum, mutant freaks. Fools who don’t know their place. You’ve heard it all and more.

Duty tells you to bring them in. Summon some drones or go all out with a clown call. After all, you are the law.

You also have no inclination to do that. Not really.

Which, if anyone knew just how reluctant you were to turn these three in, would lead to your instant culling. You’re well aware of that. Your world is terrible. You try day in and day out to do something about it, to make it just a little better in whatever ways you can. There aren’t all that many ways, though. Not when you’re working within a system that just plain doesn’t work.

Well, you suppose it’s doing just what it was designed to do—it’s that design that you don’t like.

Fuck, this is bad. You should suck it up and do your damn job. Turn the knob, bust in, throw around some justice. It’s what you’re _supposed_ to do.

Instead you press your ear to the door and listen.

“Holy shit!” a panicked voice with just a bit of a lisp exclaims.

“Let’s keep calm now. Darling, did she give any indication she was here for us?”

“Nope. Mostly we just talked about moonbathing.”

“Hot, but confusing.”

“That was befur mew two came bumbling out.”

“How were we supposed to have any clue you were chatting up a legislacerator? Here we were just starving while you were busy flirting.”

“Aww, don’t be jealous, Mewtuna. We can go moonbathing sometime.”

“Could you two please focus? We need to decide what to do.”

“Usually I’d say let’s get the hell out of here now. Better safe than culled.”

“Purrim’s still not here, though.”

“Not for another week, at least. That does make things more difficult.”

“Your mother is a two-wheeled device, babe. Once again her slutty slutty ways mess up our plans.”

There’s a deep inhale, then, “As purposefully aggravating and problematic as that was, dear, like you’re one to talk.”

“Rude but fair. Though that does give me an idea for option two.”

You can’t make out what’s said for a moment, until there’s a loud and exhausted groan.

“Mituna, you can’t solve all our problems with pailing.”

“Of course not. That’s why we should do it whenever we can.”

“Like meow!” Unmistakably Leijon. You hold a hand over your mouth to stifle a snicker.

You can’t say this is at all what you had expected. _They_ aren’t at all what you expected. A thrill you can’t quite explain shoots through you.

For whatever it’s worth, from this little you’ve overheard, you like them. And you’re a great judge of character so you can trust your own intuition here.

Grinning, you step away from the door. You’re gonna leave them to it, whether they decide to stay or slip away. You’re in no mood to benefit the empire tonight, you’re off duty! A troll has got to set hard limits about when she works and when she takes it easy, after all. Besides, they technically haven’t outright incriminated themselves so who are you to do anything with no proof? Sure, that’s done all the time, but you’re trying to be better than all that.

And think of all that paperwork! Horuss has caught on to you shoveling paperwork onto him so you’d definitely be stuck doing it all yourself tonight. No thank you.

You head back up to the bar, pretending that Chipsn isn’t practically shaking so hard the whole counter’s vibrating, and lay down enough for your drinks. With a little extra. More than enough to cover the backroom’s rent for a few days.

“For me and my new drinking buddy. Tell Leijon I’d love to share another one tomorrow if she’s still here. And take a break, Chipsn, you’re looking overworked.”

He nods wordlessly as you turn around and saunter out.

—

Work can’t end soon enough. All evening you were buzzing with anticipation. Would they still be there? Would they think your message was a trap or threat? It’s the only thing you can focus on all night.

The second you’re able, you zoom off to the bar. The omniscuttlecaravan ride is unbearably long. Longer than usual, you swear. Finally, though, you arrive, and head inside with burning curiosity.

Two of them are already waiting for you at the counter.

It’s Leijon and the psionic. He notices you right away, slouched back against the counter as he faces the door. You nod at him politely, a gesture he returns before alerting Leijon to your presence. As you walk over she turns and waves. Your smile is genuine. At first you tried to school your features, but damn you’re just too elated. They stayed!

“Glad I could catch you again, Leijon. I never did have the chance to find out how long you’re staying for.”

“Haven’t decided yet. Purrope, this is Clawptor—“

“Nope. That sounds awful.”

“Catpurr.”

“Fuck it, fine. Just call me Mituna.”

“Mewtuna.”

“Acceptable.”

Snorting you greet, “Nice to meet you, Tuna.”

Like you had for Leijon you extend a hand. Unlike her, he hesitates. You can imagine him contemplating his next course of action as he studies your hand like it’s some sort of trap, but eventually he does take it with a much more unsure shake than his companion. You just offer him a pleasant smile.

Leijon pats the stool on her other side and you take a seat. She orders a round for the three of you, then turns back to you as Chipsn gets to mixing.

“So how’re mew?”

“Exhausted from work.” The truth, every single night. “Glad you stuck around another night.” A truth that makes you so giddy. “Delighted to meet your companion here. Is he as fun as you are?”

“I’m a whole different level.”

“He’s funny to keep pawround.”

Mituna flips her off; she sticks out her tongue.

Chipsn sets three glasses down on the counter, and you each take one. The booze brings an instant relief. Probably not healthy that this is the only way you can unwind from work, but you’ll do what you have to. Still not as dangerous as who you work close to, either way.

“Delicious, Salspaw! Mew really should make this your special.”

“I don’t butterlieve my normal clientele is really cooking for this type of drink. But I appreciate that.”

As he busies himself with another patron, you focus back on the other two. Mituna is taking a generous sip of his and you can’t help teasing, “Doesn’t it just make you want to go moonbathing? Nude, of course. I wouldn’t want any tan lines.”

Mituna starts choking, splashing booze all over his lap.

Ignoring him Meulin agrees, “This wouldn’t be a bad night fur it, either. Purrhaps after a few more of these we might hit up that spot I told mew about. Your choice if Mewtuna joins us.”

Mituna, who’s finally recovered, glowers at you two. Neither of you are affected.

Looking him up and down you reply, “We’ll see how the night goes. Not that I’m inclined to turn down an offer like that. Especially when the poor guy’s already wet.”

Meulin guffaws and you join her. There’s a faint golden sheen to Mituna’s cheeks that you can’t deny is pretty cute. You’re gonna enjoy riling this one up. Even better, you have a feeling that Meulin will be a willing ally.

Conversation after that is light and easy, especially aided by another round of drinks, though you can’t deny the ever present undercurrent of uncertainty. After all, this is their evaluation of you, you have no doubts about that. You exude chillness, though, just flirting with the other two and pretending like you have no idea who exactly you’re drinking with.

More than anything, you watch them. Meulin touches him a lot, but then again she also ends up touching you a few times, as well. Brushing her hand against yours, sitting closer than necessary even at this cramped bar. Her knee against your thigh in a way that shouldn’t excite you but, well, it does.

It’s a good thing your outfit covers you so well or they might notice your wiggly.

They have such a spark between them. An easy flirtation. A subtle flow between them. It’s obvious they’ve known each other through a lot, that they mesh well and have molded around each other as people will. You can’t help wondering _how_ exactly they’re meshed. Burning with curiosity you ask, “Are you quadranted?”

They share a look and a snicker before replying at the same time, “It’s complicated.”

“As long as it’s never boring.”

You raise your glass and they mimic you.

“So what about mew?” Meulin asks with a sly glint in her ganderorbs, leaning in towards you. “Got any quadrants filled?”

Like a conspirator you cross the rest of the distance between you two, admitting, “Single in every way.”

“Aww, but mew’re so interesting and fun!”

“Exactly. I’m too rad to handle.”

That earns you a grin from her and a snicker from Mituna. You sneak a peek his way, watching his finger rubbing along the rim of his glass.

“What?” he wonders, interpreting a half formed thought and making you lose it. “Too busy with work for relationships?”

“Well I’m sure as hell not dating anyone from there. Clowns are only fun if you're one, too.”

He accepts that with an understanding nod. Of course someone as low down on the food chain as him can sympathize.

All three of you are aware of how this conversations is now teetering towards dangerous territory. You decide the course of it from this point is up to them. Risky or risqué, you’re excited to see which they choose.

To your surprise, it’s neither. At least, not that you can figure out.

“Do you live in the city?” Mituna wonders, and you know he means the Big City, the Empress’ hub, where law and Faygo flow like (and with) blood.

“On the edges. Makes the commute to work hell. Less noise, though.”

“Have mew efur traveled further than here?”

You really can’t understand what this line of questioning is leading to. Still, you answer honestly. Not that you should. But you shouldn’t even be drinking with the enemy anyway, so you might as well continue on.

“I’ve traveled for work, but not much else. I can’t say I’ve been too many places, and even then I can’t say I’ve really seen where I have been. I’d like to, though. One day.”

Meulin gives you a sort of smile and says, “I hope mew get the chance. There’s a lot to see out there.”

“All sorts of things,” Mituna agrees bitterly, lifting his glass to his lips.

Before you can even think of a reply there’s a sudden bang from the backroom, and you see both Meulin and Mituna’s eyes widen. Chipsn swivels from the door to the pair, silently begging for answers.

Softly you catch Meulin mumble something akin to, “Oh, he got out of the rope.”

You hardly get the chance to contemplate that before she and Mituna are excusing themselves, suddenly remembering an “important engagement”. They do invite you back tomorrow night, and readily you agree.

Like a true legislacerator you have so many questions. Also like a true legislacerator, you decide that since you don’t foresee some reward this is out of your jurisdiction.

No, what’s more important is that you _passed_. Giddiness fills you. You’re more excited at passing this than the legislacerator bar, and this test didn’t even have the stipulation of culling if you failed!

You stare at the closed door in deep contemplation as you idly sip the remainder of your drink. A thousand things run through your mind at once. Not all of them are thoughts you should be having. Not many of them you care to consciously keep hold of for too long.

“What would you say if I thought I was becoming friends with outlaws?” you wonder, glancing over at Chipsn who answers carefully, not quite looking at you.

“That seems like some milky territory, you being a troll of the law, after all.”

“Law itself is murky,” you wave off, a smile on your face you can’t quite explain.

You don’t want to think about turning these rebels in. They’ve already grown on you. Like you’re old friends reconnecting instead of strangers who met in a bar, on opposite sides of the Empress’ chessboard.

Oh, Tula, you’re damned either way, aren’t you?

—

Just like yesterday, you hurry back to the bar soon as you possibly can. Work was one rapid fire fiasco after another you’ve hardly had time to dwell on tonight’s meeting. It kept you up for most of the day, though, both giddy and trepidatious, wondering just what the hell kind of game you’re playing at. Funny, really. You’d think you’d be more worried about what _they’re_ planning.

When you enter the building, the counter is empty save Chipsn behind it. A distinct disappointment fills you until you glance around, eyes zooming into a dark corner where you hear a punnification of your name being called from. Meulin waves at you from a booth. She’s not alone. Mituna again, but this time there’s a third troll. Shorter than them, stubby horns barely peeking out of fluffy hair. The heretic, the mutant, the signless.

Feeling light, you cross the room and slide into the empty bench across from the trio. Mituna and Meulin have sandwiched their companion between them, like overprotective guards flanking a beloved superior. Mituna especially seems on edge. Both are pressed close to him, however, like the proximity is a lifeline against any impending danger. You get the feeling they didn’t want him here.

You take a good look at him. For all intents and purposes, he doesn’t seem very striking at all. Not intimidating in the slightest, yet not shirking away from you. In fact, he’s smiling pleasantly and genuinely, and it truly makes you feel welcome. Even though you know he must know who and what you are. In his own way, he’s more striking than any of the clowns or executers you’ve ever met.

“Hello, Latula. I’m so glad I get to meet you.”

The use of your first name surprises you, but you don’t show it as you take the hand he offers you and shakes. The other two watch you closely. His smile brightens.

“You’ve got me at a disadvantage, stranger.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’m Kankri.”

Kankri. The name of the blasphemous so called prophet trying to overthrow Her Imperial Condescension via peace and equality—the two things she hates the most. It’s kind of cute.

“Nice to meet you, Kankri. You certainly keep interesting company.”

“These two are quite the pair,” he agrees with a little laugh before turning to Mituna. “Dear, would you mind ordering us a round?”

With a grunt Mituna barely glances towards the bar as he uses psionics to grab a whiskey and bring it over, ignoring Chipsn’s peeved exclamation. The bottle sets down heavy on the table.

“Not what I meant, but alright.”

“That’s fine,” you assure, winking at him from the top of your glasses as you snatch up the bottle. “I don’t mind something a little heavier tonight.”

It burns deliciously; he grabbed the good stuff. You make a show of swallowing more than you actually do. Probably should try and keep your senses about you.

You pass the bottle to Kankri, but Meulin intercepts before he can take it and has herself a generous sip. You admire the lines of her neck again, the quick flex of her arm. Listen, you can take a moment to appreciate your drinking companions. Pleasure and business sometimes manage to coexist.

She passes it on to Mituna next who who has his own long gulp of whiskey. Kankri gives a fond roll of his eyes then focuses back on you.

“So, Latula, you’re a regular here?”

“What can I say? Sometimes a girl demands the best, and Chipsn delivers some good food and great booze. What about you?”

“Oh, just passing through for a bit.”

“Have you seen much of the town yet? I hear there’s a really good spot for moonbathing.”

Kankri ducks his head, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. Could almost be mistaken for burgundy in this light, if you didn’t know any better. Plausible deniability.

“I should probably state for the record we are quadranted, as flattering as any flirtation you are or are not doing with me is.”

“I’m fine with it,” Meulin assures. Kankri’s blush deepens.

“I’m definitely into it,” Mituna agrees, finally cracking the ghost of a smile.

You lay your elbows up on the table and prop your chin up, leaning towards Kankri. There's a grin on your face, though as teasing as you are you don’t lie when you say, "What about you? I won’t be hurt if you don’t want me flirting, I know I’m a lot to handle. But I definitely wouldn’t mind you handling me.”

Kankri mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck, I have a type."

“Didn’t I tell mew Purrope was fun?” Meulin speaks up, taking the bottle again. You have to wonder what she’s actually said about you. “Purretty easy going.”

“Does that mean I fit right in with you three? At least the ‘easy’ part?”

That gets Mituna laughing so hard he bangs a fist down on the table, whole body shaking. Kankri looks fond and exasperated all at once.

“You certainly get along quite well with these two. Which I’m glad for.” He fixes you with a look that you can’t quite read—which aggravates you, usually a pro at reading expressions. “You’d be amazed at how many don’t actually care for us.”

“I wouldn’t, actually.”

You grab the bottle and lean back, taking a slow swig. You’re aware of their eyes on you. A bit of that tension is instantly back, like everyone is waiting for another shoe to drop, for the scale to choose a direction and tip so far towards it that it won’t swing right back anymore. It wants to, but you’re not quite sure which direction it’ll go at the end of all this.

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” Kankri muses. “You might be a midblood, but at the end of the day that’s not saying much.”

Meulin’s eyes flick from you to him to you again defensively. As though she’s afraid you’ll suddenly snap because of that remark. Instead you set the bottle down with a humorless chuckle and slide it towards him. He fumbles a bit, but manages to catch it before it ends in his lap.

“The way things are set up, that says it all.”

“It says something, obviously, but it changes depending on who’s reading. Who’s _listening_.”

You flash him a smile with just a bit too much teeth. Doesn’t seem like the other two care for that much, but Kankri seems unaffected. It’s almost infuriating how smugly _pleasant_ he looks.

“That’s one way to put it. We’re all under our righteous empress, after all.”

“You could say she’s colorblind, in that she sees us all the same—trash.”

“My, now doesn’t that sound like heresy?”

“Is it heresy if she would say the same thing?”

“Huh. I guess you got me there,” you concede with a small shrug. “So tell me, Kankri, about these other ways one can read my caste.”

“Well, some would read you as privileged. After all, as a teal more doors are opened for you than, say, gold or olive. Of course, those doors themselves are limited. A teal that doesn't want to work in law, after all, only has a few other options available. That’s fine if you want to help an artist low on paint, but otherwise not so much. On the other hand, being a legislacerator is rather more cushy than being a helmsman.”

“So how do you read it?”

Deceptively calm he sips from the bottle before telling you, “Whether a dartboard gets hung in a small bar or a large bar, it’s still going to have sharp objects thrown at it.”

“Sure that’s a fitting metaphor? Dartboards are made specifically for that, after all.”

“Maybe, but the materials could have been crafted into anything. You could have been crafted into something that wasn’t a legislacerator, I could have been something other than what this world made me. We are merely working within the parameters of what’s been set up for us, and I for one don’t care for those parameters. What about you, Latula?”

Your pusher is beating as fast as when you’re in the middle of a trial. Meulin and Mituna loom in the side of your vision as your eyes are glued, unblinking, on Kankri. Your mouth is dry, fingers itching to reclaim that now half full whiskey, and you—

You don’t know what to say.

One second stretches into two while feeling like an hour. Rationally you know you don’t hesitate long, but even this minuscule moment sounds like the silence of damnation. Verging on a panic never felt before, you force yourself to speak, the words themselves a surprise.

“I think you're more impressive than any wanted poster could ever depict.”

“Thank you!” He’s beaming, and it’s somehow both insufferable and endearing. “I have to say, I don’t think any of them really capture my likeness.”

You catch Meulin and Mituna both fidgeting. It only encourages you as you tell him, “I’ve seen plenty of them, and you’re not wrong.”

The other two shoot upright, sliding out of the booth and shoving Kankri along.

“This was fun but we really should be going,” Meulin rushes over Kankri’s protests.

“See you later,” you wave off, half dazed and reeling.

You watch them drag Kankri back into the room, aware of Chipsn eyeing you in turn. You don’t pay him any mind, though, wrapped up in your own thoughts.

What kind of game are you playing? This has officially stopped being something you could write off as a fun diversion or feeling out the enemy or whatever you wanted to pretend it was. You can’t stop thinking about Kankri, running the conversation through your pan over and over, a thousand times each second. It brings up a lot of uncomfortable feelings you aren’t ready to address.

Before you even register your movement, you’re walking calmly up to the door and pressing an auditory clot to it. They’re still in there, talking about you of course. Part of you is relieved that they don’t seem to be climbing out the window and running off; a voice in the back of your pan says that would be the easiest solution to all this.

“Honestly, you two. Things were going well!”

“I love mew so much, but mew have no self purreservation.”

“Yeah, the whole wanting to save everyone with love and peace or whatever is nice in theory, but it’s not really full proof.”

“There’s good in her,” Kankri insists, which makes your pusher flip strangely in its cavity. “I was getting through to her, really getting through! She’s not like so many others who revel in the power they wield against others cruelly.”

“Sure, babe, she’s real nice,” Mituna agrees, and you catch Meulin’s hum of agreement, “but she works for the empire that wants your ass dead.”

“Mew can understand why we might be a bit purrtective.”

“While I do appreciate that, of course, and I understand fully the dangers we live daily, surely _you_ can understand my desire to reach out to Latula. There’s something there, I just know it, if I can just keep reaching.”

“What’s there are a pair of nice rumble spheres and tight ass.”

The warmth of flattery washes over you. It’s good to be appreciated. After all, you take damn good care of your bodacious bod, thank you very much. It slash you deserve to be appreciated. Even if it seems like a non sequitur.

“Mewtuna’s right, she’s super hot. Purrhaps we should go with our original plan.”

“Seduction distraction, a classic.”

“A clawssic for a reason.”

Kankri sighs in that heavy but still full of love way that partners will—not that you have personal experience with that. You’ve overhead it, though, from others, an exasperation steeped in fondness.

Following a split second whim, you open the door and slide in. You’re quiet, but still they all whip towards you on high alert. No one makes a move. You smile like the situation’s perfectly normal.

“Well, don’t let me ruin the mood.”

Meulin is on her feet in an instant, moving so fast you swear you see blur lines. There are some sharp looking blades on her hands now that send a thrill down your spine.

Mituna, likewise, has readied his psionics. They crackle dangerously around his eyes. They’re pretty, you can’t help but admit to yourself.

Kankri matches your smile.

“Hello again, Latula. What brings you here?”

He’s so unflinchingly polite and sweet that you could just die. Which might be a poor choice of words, if the other two are anything to go by.

“My auditory clots were burning so I had to come see what all the talk was about.” You lower your shades enough to flash them a wink. “Can’t say I mind the topic.”

There’s the faintest tint of olive on Meulin’s face, but otherwise she remains just as she is, glowering at you. If you make any sudden movement it had better be well calculated or your head will end up on the floor, and you don’t think Chipsn will appreciate that much.

“Ah, you heard all that,” Kankri notes, ducking his head. God, why is he so adorable? He has no right.

“Like I said, it doesn’t bother me. Besides, I know how damn fine I am. I’d be insulted if none of you noticed.”

You catch the slight quirk of Mituna’s mouth. Encouraged that you’re cracking through the tension if only a smidge, you get down to business.

“I’m not here to do anything to any of you. I’m just here to talk.”

“You’ll understand why we don’t just automatically trust the words of a smooth talking legislacerator.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment. And I don’t blame you, that’s only good sense. After all, anything you say can and certainly will be used against you in a court of law. If you ever made it that far.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’d bother with a trial,” Mituna snorts humorlessly.

You bite back a comment about how it depends solely on the fickle moods of the Grand Chucklefuck, and to a greater degree the sea bitch herself. While true, it doesn’t help the current conversation. Instead you reply, “Moot point, since I’m not turning you in.”

“Why not?” Meulin wonders.

“Why should I?'

“Beclaws we're criminals, you know we’re wanted, and Clawkri is the type of mewtant that’s supurrsed to be culled on sight,” she lists off, echoing your own darker thoughts.

She’s right, of course. Duty at this point cannot just be written off. All you do is shrug, though, and the simple, dismissive gesture feels like a choice you can’t come back from.

Kankri’s whole face is lit up like a Twelfth Perigee’s tree. Taking a step towards you, ignoring the alarm from his partners, he says, “I knew there was good in you. Oh, Latula, you don’t know how happy this makes me.”

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that so you tell him almost defensively, “I’m no saint here, you know. I’m just not going to make their lives easier by turning you three in.”

“Still don’t understand why,” Mituna speaks up.

“Purretty sure bringing in the three most wanted trolls on Alternia would really boost your claweer.”

“It would,” you concur, because there’s no denying that. “There are more important things than my career at stake here, though.”

“Like a rebellion?” Meulin wonders uncertainly. Hopefully, maybe. You smile.

“I was going to say a newfound friendship. And important information. You haven’t told me where that moonbathing spot is yet.”

Suddenly all the tension is sucked away as Meulin giggles—actually fucking _giggles_ like a wiggler, except she could still easily slice your neck wide open.

Man, you should not have a wiggly right now.

“And you thought seducing her wasn’t going to work,” Mituna snickers, glancing at Kankri who gives him an unimpressed look in return.

“That’s not what’s happening here, dear.”

“No no,” you contradict, “I am very much seduced. My body is quivering with anticipating and desire to just be ravished by you three dastardly vagabonds.”

It’s a joke, sure, but you would absolutely be down for a foursome right now.

You have an inkling that you’re not alone in that.

Meulin crosses the scant space between you first, popping your personal bubble without a second thought. She snakes a hand around your waist and pulls you flush against her before you really get the chance to register what’s happening. Then she’s kissing you.

Listen, you’re no blushing virgin or anything, and usually you play it much cooler, but damn do you just melt. She took you by surprise, after all! And boy is she a good kisser.

“I knew it would be hot seeing you two together, and I was right,” Mituna remarks, voice tinted with smugness and an obvious arousal.

You hear his footsteps as he comes over, stopping behind you. Softly he kisses the back of your neck, one hand running up to a horn. He strokes it, little sparks of psionics dancing along the chitin.

“I wish I could be surprised at this turn of events,” Kankri sighs, “but then I might as well be shocked each night when the moons rise in the sky.”

“If you don’t wanna join feel free to watch, babe. I don’t think any of us would mind.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to join. There’s no reason to put words in my mouth.”

Finally breaking your kiss Meulin pulls back and tells him, “Then get ofur here already!”

Grumbling about them both, he does. When he catches your eyes he softens and reaches out, stroking knuckles against your cheek.

“This is alright, correct? If we move too fast please tell us to slow down, no worries.”

“Trust me, I’m loving this speed,” you assure breathlessly. “Glad to see you joining in, Kankri.”

He chuckles before leaning in and kissing you. The last few shreds of any plausible deniability fly right out the window as you readily open up for him.

He’s so slow and tender as he explores your mouth. The other two match his pace, Mituna still stroking your left horn while he mouthes your neck, Meulin rubbing your hips while she watches you two kiss.

You’ve gotta admit that you’re typically the one taking charge on the platform, the one driving the festivities on. This is nice, though. Full attention of three hot trolls who want to treat you right and seem to know what they’re doing? Yes, please.

Kankri pulls back, cupping your cheek and thumb rubbing your bottom lip.

“You really are quite lovely, Latula. I’m glad we got to meet you.”

“I’m glad we get to see mew,” Meulin adds, tugging pointedly at your top so you don’t miss her meaning.

“The feeling’s _mew_ tual,” you reply, earning a wide grin as she swoops in to kiss you again.

Hands roam your body, feeling you up, tugging on your clothes, groping your ass and rumble spheres. You don’t fight them or your little sounds of pleasure. All of them touch you so differently, yet each way mingles with the others instead of anyone’s ministrations feeling out of place or getting lost. All three of them just go so well together and you can hardly comprehend it.

Meulin’s got this heat about her. Not frantic or erratic, but certainly something more animalistic than trollish as she grinds your pelvises together. Everything about Mituna is lewd. The way he groans against your skin as he sucks hard, the psionics laded hand pawing at your ass, the filthy compliments he gives you when he moves his mouth up to your ear before nipping at it.Kankri is so much more tender. It’s a perfect offset to the others, keeping you from completely getting swept up in the other two.

For a bit they take it slow like this, just feeling you out, seeing how you respond. Then little by little they start getting your clothes off. Mituna gets that ball into motion, pushing your top up and declaring, “It’s time to free the rumble spheres.”

“Now that’s a revolution I can get behind.”

As he works the top off Meulin takes the opportunity to run her hands along your abdomen then up your chest as it’s revealed. She gropes your rumble spheres with a grin that makes you feel appreciated.

“So soft,” she murmurs gleefully.

After a moment she finds the clasp of your rumble sphere holders and really frees them. Almost instantly Mituna’s hands snake around to squeeze them, and you press back against his chest with a moan. When he pinches both your nipples in tandem you curse.

“Ehehe, these feel great.”

“Right? Mew know, we really should go moonbathing sometime, that’d be so much fun!”

“I’ll take any excuse to see hot naked bodies,” Mituna agrees, sounding like a salacious sage.

“Really, you two,” Kankri chides, far too calm for someone who’s rubbing your thigh so tantalizingly close to your wet nook and squirming bulge, “I sometimes wonder if you have any room in your pans for non-sexual thoughts.”

“Why would we want to?”

“We let mew do that sort of thinking fur us,” Meulin assures, pecking him on the cheek.

“Hey, at least the one thing they can do, they do well,” you pipe up. Kankri chuckles.

“Oh, we can do plenty of things well, just you wait.”

Mituna’s breath is hot against your cheek. You swallow before you can stop yourself.

Your bulge and nook both _ache_ like something out of a tawdry bodice ripper. You can hardly believe any of this is real and not just some wild dream. But you’ve never dreamed in so much detail. The firm hands massaging your rumble spheres, the three-way heat enveloping you, Meulin’s mouth on your chest. She bites with just a bit of force, a taste of things to come; you gasp, head pressing back against Mituna and one of your horns snagging his shirt. He tugs it free then keeps his hand there on the base, massaging.

Kankri reaches over, easing your glasses off.

“Let me take these before something happens to them. I promise to keep them safe.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you return weakly. It’s hitting you just how unaccustomed you are to this sort of treatment.

While Meulin bites along your chest and breasts, her hands work your tights down. She gets them right above your knees before psionics do the rest, raising you an inch so they can come off, shoes and all.

Snickering close to your ear Mituna notes, “You’re so wet.”

“Her bulge is furry despurrate, too,” Meulin adds, brushing a hand against it. You buck on instinct.

“Listen,” you pant, “a girl’s got needs.”

“Anything you need,” Kankri offers, suddenly very close to your face, “I think we can fulfill.”

Then he claims your lips. Damn, you think you could swoon. No time for that, though, as Meulin gets a good grip on your bulge and starts pumping it. You trill into Kankri’s mouth, feeling as flushed as a wiggler during her first time.

Psionics tickle your nipples as Mituna goes back to teasing them. He keeps going down a little further, inch by inch, hands roaming along your bare expanse. Rumble spheres, stomach, sides, a minor pause to squeeze your grubscars, then finally down to your hips which he caresses. Sparks still shoot out, and when a stray one shocks the top of your nook you clench with a long groan. Pleased at his discovery, Mituna circles a finger around your nook lips, letting out the occasional spark. There’s no rhythm to it that you can pick up other than whenever he feels like it. The anticipation keeps you deliciously on edge.

Meanwhile, Meulin idly plays with your bulge. She strokes along the underbelly, lets it thread through her fingers spread wide apart, runs a careful but deadly claw tip along its length. You can’t help shivering, verging on overwhelmed.

“So I take it you like what you see,” you joke breathlessly when Kankri finally pulls back.

“Oh, furry much so, Purrope.”

“I’d say we’re on a first name basis by now, but I’d hate to ruin your pun.”

“Clawtula,” she returns without hesitation. You let out a surprised but delighted snicker.

“I dig it.”

“You are quite attractive,” Kankri agrees, puling your attention back on him. He runs fingers from the crook of your neck up to your jaw which he traces, just watching you with a hungry but patient expression. Almost like a predator in wait; as ironic as it is fucking hot.

“Damn right we like what we see,” Mituna agrees, emphasizing his words with a psionic shock that’s just a bit more potent than any of the others. You gasp and chitter. “Can’t wait to see what you look like with a bulge or two in you.”

“The answer to that is damned good,” you manage to quip. “But you should definitely find out for yourselves.”

You’re fully naked and not one of them has lost an ounce of clothing. Now that’s criminal. It’s about time to change that.

“As much fun as I’m having, wouldn’t it be fair to let me see what all you’ve got? I’ve shown you mine, now show me yours.”

“Meow that only seems fur. Here, babe, mew furst.”

Meulin detangles from your bulge, which leaves it squirming unhappily but you’ll deal, and gets her hands around Kankri. He huffs a little but doesn’t protest, even when Mituna’s psionics help out. God, his reverse crop top leotard thing really was one piece. Damn him for being able to pull something as ridiculous as that off so well.

The wanted posters always claim him to be some malnourished runt. Obviously whoever made them never got to appreciate the man’s hidden physique. He’s no Zahhak, but damn does he have some hidden muscles that you could ogle all night.

Oh sweet man on the moon, _his bulge_. You’re by no means a size queen, but you have to appreciate one as thick and long as his. Just the sight has your nook trembling.

Resting her chin on Kankri’s shoulder Meulin looks over at you and asks, “Nice, huh?”

“Just wait until it’s in you,” Mituna agrees.

“I’m on the edge of my proverbial seat.”

“I’m glad you enjoy what you see,” Kankri says just a bit bashfully. He turns to Meulin. “Your turn, darling.”

She pulls back and stands there, all grins. Getting the hint, the other two help. Kankri goes behind her, catching your eye as he slowly lifts up her top. It seems she did not bother with a rumble sphere holder, and you have the feeling she might not even own one.

Mituna works on the bottom area of her outfit. You take in the lean muscles, curves which aren’t at all soft, flicking bulge and dripping nook. There’s a slim trail down her right inner thigh and you’re struck with the urge to drag your tongue along it. Instead you lick your lips and whistle. She tosses you a wink.

“Damn, you two look good together.”

“You should see when Meulin’s ass is up in the air and Kankri’s buried inside her. Now that’s hot.”

“Yeah, I’d definitely love to see that.”

Meulin and Kankri both laugh, the latter saying, “Maybe at some point we’ll show you that.”

“There’s purrlenty of other things to do tonight, though. Fur instance—“

“Mituna, darling, your turn.”

You’re passed from Mituna to Meulin like some toy. She holds you like he did, pressing her cheek to yours and squeezing your hips as you both watch the others. Her bulge slithers between your thighs, pressing against your slick nook as it reaches up and finds your own bulge which eagerly rubs across it.

“Why do I have the feeling I’m going to do all the work here?” Kankri wonders as he splays his hand out on Mituna’s chest.

“You love it.”

Kankri hums noncommittally as he starts undressing him with care. Much as predicted, Mituna doesn’t help.

He’s so gangly, a fact that’s inescapable when he’s bare. His bulges match that, two thin but long beacons of gold that twist together, pulsating and dripping shamelessly. Frankly, you want to climb him.

“Not bad at all," you comment appreciatively, looking him up and down. He gives you a lascivious grin right back. “I’m into the double vision scenario you got going on. Pretty rad.”

“Heh, just wait until you get acquainted with them.”

“Promises, promises. We haven’t even made it to the platform yet.”

Kankri’s the one who replies as he comes over to you with, “I suppose we should at this point. If you’ll allow me.”

Before you can question what that means, he picks you up and cradles you in his arms. Unexpected, but certainly not unappreciated. You squeeze his upper arm.

“Damn, look at you, Buffkri. A girl can get used to this type of treatment. Bet you could hold me up against the wall all day.”

He stares straight ahead, cheeks bright red. Cutest little bit of blasphemy you ever did see.

Soon as he lays you down on the bed the other two are there, lavishing you with kisses all over. Their hands get back to roaming and groping, too, this time bulges joining the fun. Meulin’s slaps your thigh, seeking out your bulge again and wrapping tight around it when they connect. Mituna’s meanwhile stroke your hip, leaving a golden trail across them.

You gasp into Meulin’s mouth when a fingertip presses into your nook.

“Is this alright, Latula? Do you need a moment to adjust?” Kankri asks.

You answer by bucking up. He chuckles and eases the rest of his finger in.

“I have to say you’re incredibly slick, which I’m taking as a sign you’re enjoying yourself. It’s quite lovely to see your slurry leaking out like this.”

“Ehehe, I can’t wait until there’s a lot more,” Mituna says, one hand stroking and sparking your horn again.”Just soaking everything in teal.”

Meulin breaks your kiss, pulling on your bottom lip between her teeth before letting you go.

“Mm, that does sound furry good. Would you like that, Clawtula? To pail so hard there’s no time fur a bucket?”

“Fuck," you breath in sharply, the decadence of that making your nook clench around Kankri’s finger. He starts easing in another and you can’t bite back a moan. “You know, that’s a lot of talk, nice as it is, but not enough action.”

“Telling us to put our money where our mouths are?” Mituna chuckles, breath ghosting over your ear.

“You’ve certainly got the goods, now give me proof you can put them to good use."

Your challenge is met with three matching, hungry grins. Oh, you are going to get eaten alive here and you cannot _wait_.

Mituna bites the crook of your neck and you trill. Then Kankri’s pressing a third finger inside of you while Meulin sucks on one of your nipples. Since his partners’ mouths are occupied, Kankri takes up the mantle of conversation himself.

“There are certainly a number of ways we could, ahem, prove our prowess to you. I’m sure Mituna and Meulin both have their own, numerous ideas. They’re nothing if not creative. I think I know what we should do, though. With your consent, of course.”

Calmly he pumps in and out of you, fingers dragging out until just the tips are barely left inside before pushing back into you suddenly. You’re panting so heavily and it’s getting harder to pay attention, but you force yourself to focus on his moving lips.

“What’ve you got in mind?”

“If your wastechute isn't off limits I’d love for you to sit in Mituna’s lap so he can pail you from behind, and Meulin can pail your nook.”

“That—“ You swallow, thrown off as Meulin squeezes the base of your bulge. “That sounds like a plan, Kankri. What about you, though?”

“I’d love to wrap my bulge around yours, if you don’t mind. We’re all flexible enough to make it work, I think.”

“Hey, I’m willing to give anything a shot at least once.”

“No wonder you get along so well with these two.”

You let out a breathless laugh that turns into a gasp when Meulin traces your nipple with a sharp fang.

They keep working you up like that, bringing you so close you think you’re going to pail at any second before they bring you back down. Teasing every bit of you just to see how you’ll react, to see how close they can get you to orgasm without letting you pail. It’s maddening.

Finally Kankri orders the other two to ease up and help get you how he wants you. They don’t argue or give him any gruff, eager to follow whatever he tells them. You don’t fight it, either, letting Meulin lift you up while Mituna sits back so she can put you in his lap.

Gently he takes hold of your hips, angling you how he needs to so his bulges can slip between your cheeks. He sighs, backdropped by a pleased trill as his bulges wiggle inside of you. As soon as they’re snug he lowers you flush against his lap, chin resting between your horns.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Not so bad yourself, buddy.”

Meulin settles between your legs, reaching out to stoke your cheek and rumble spheres, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Mew’re so purretty, Clawtula. I could defurnitely write stories about mew.”

“Dirty ones?”

“Purr erotica that wouldn’t pass any of the decency censors.”

Your stomach flips, empty nook clenching. Meulin just watches you with an alarmingly large smile that shows off her dangerous fangs.

“Mew ready fur me?”

“Aching to see what you got.”

The words are barely out before she surges forward, crashing your lips together as she guides her bulge inside of you. She doesn’t pause until she’s all the way in, and then her bulge _thrashes_.

They start rocking you between them, small sparks jumping all over your bare flesh. Nipples, neck, grubscars, thighs, bulge. You never know where they’ll land next.

After a bit—you lost the ability to keep track of time—you feel Meulin shift followed by a thick bulge wrapping around yours.

Once again you’re surrounded by so much _heat_. Way more intense than before, only compounded by how full you are. You don’t think there’s an inch inside of you they’re not banging against.

It’s hard to keep track of anything now. Your focus jumps from psionics running along your sides to a hand cupping your cheek to someone turning you for a kiss. Hands grope and paw at you wherever they can reach. A tongue drags across your chest, your neck. Your nipples get pinched, your ass gets firmly squeezed.

  
That doesn’t even take into account the sounds. Bodies rocking against bodies, pants and moans and chitters. Then there are the the dirty compliments and praise all three of them keep giving you. Especially Kankri, damn. He’s so vocal, and you don’t know how to handle yourself under his attention. All you can do is be fucked senseless.

It’s no surprise that you pail first, and you really are dazed after. They keep fucking you through your orgasm. Meulin picks up speed, both her bulge and how she rocks against you, mouth pressed to your neck as she makes needy little sounds. Her movements become erratic, jerky, and with one last good thrust slurry fill you up. Eagerly your seedflap soaks up every single drop it can.

Your thighs are shaking, but the other two are still going. Mituna’s taken up a litany of _fuck fuck fuck_ while Kankri’s shooshing everyone simultaneously, stroking Meulin’s hair and rubbing your neck.

When Mituna pails it’s with a gasped _fucked!_ that echoes in your auditory clots. You can feel slurry coating your ass and sticking you two together.

With them limp, just idly stroking parts of your body, all your fuzzy focus is on Kankri. He sort of eases Meulin a bit out of the way so he can press even closer to you until your fronts are flush together, rumble spheres trapped against his chest. His bulge has yours in a death grip. They pulsate in tandem, yours much weaker and practically enveloped in his. He’s lost the ability to speak, finally. You almost miss his voice, but it’s made up for by a desperate, edged panting and a flush on his face that couldn’t be mistake for anything else but the bright red of his mutant blood. _Beautiful_.

His eyes squeeze shut as he pails with a sort of whimpered grunt, spilling slurry all over your abdomen and thighs. Frankly, there are more slurry covered parts of your body right now than clean, and you feel so fucking gloriously good.

It’s Meulin who moves first, helping to ease Kankri then you down on the platform. He holds out an arm for you to lay your head on, and you accept the offer, dangerously intimate as it is. As she curls around Kankri, Mituna takes residence at your other side, draping a leg over yours.

“Well damn,” you more wheeze than laugh, “that was definitely some compelling evidence.”

That earns you returning laughter.

“I’ll assume that means you enjoyed yourself, then,” Kankri muses.

“A good first taste. Gotta admit, you’ve got me hooked now.”

You stare up at the ceiling, not really noticing anything about it. No way you could describe it later, that’s for sure. All your panpower is being used strictly to recover. Maybe if it’s not that late and anyone else is up for it a second round can happen. You wouldn’t mind even just a little more kissing.

Familiar uncertainty seeps into the afterglow. You’ve certainly crossed a line you can’t return from. But honestly, even if you could, would you want to? Just the things you’ve seen since becoming a legislacerator have been enough to open your eyes wide, not to mention all the atrocities and inequalities you witnessed growing up.

No, you can’t go back and you wouldn’t anyway. You think maybe you were just waiting for a chance meeting like this to send you down a much better path. A path were you can actually see yourself making a positive change.

Summoning up all your courage and cool you comment as casually as you can, “You know, any real rebellion worth anything would be much better off if they had someone on the inside.”

To your surprise, Mituna snickers.

“The rebellion’s already been inside you.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

You toss your head back and laugh like you haven’t in sweeps. Meulin joins you as Kankri admonishes Mituna’s lewd and inappropriate post coital remark. It only encourages him to continue.

Chest and pan both light, you close your eyes and let yourself drift off to the banter surrounding you.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I was only going to use Chipsn Salsah as a placeholder name until I thought of something more clever, but it grew on me.


End file.
